


Calm Through Repetition

by nicocoer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dementia, Gen, alzheimer's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicocoer/pseuds/nicocoer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is in Peggy's room, and only some days does she know Steve is looking for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calm Through Repetition

The first time you saw him, you knew him, but you weren't sure why. You weren't sure why you were in this room either, and thought for sure that the matron would be angry that you were here instead of studying maths. The light coming through the window said it was 10 am, and you think it might be Tuesday and hope that you will still be let to go to Girl Guides tonight. Is it worth it to be laying here watching a dark haired man sweep floors and watch you out of the corner of his eye?

When you notice the shape of your hands on the bed sheets you are puzzled and cannot figure out why they look so old.

The second time you see him it's just an outline in the doorway, and the light in your room is out so you cannot see his face. You surge for the gun you swear you left in the bedside drawer, but all you find there is a stack of pictures of people who might be your grand kids if they were older and a Gideon bible. When you notice he's no longer looming in the door to your room you tuck the bible into the back of the drawer for the next person.

You think he followed you back from the office the other day, could have sworn you saw the glint of a gun in the darkness. When your number 2 turned up in a gutter, you wondered if you were the next target.

You look through the pictures for a hint as to what purpose these clearly doctored photos could have. You clearly remember a 5th birthday last week, and here is someone who looks like that child at 15. What sort of intelligence could they be hoping to get out of her with _this_?

The next time you are lucid, just for a few moments, and you ask him if Steve knows he's here. You feel like Steve said something about looking for him, but the context for that conversation seems to peter out at the end.

The man shakes his head, and tells you five things on repeat, especially as you start to fade out:

1) Don't tell him.

2) Don't call me Bucky, not yet.

3) I'm not dead.

4) I'm not going to hurt you.

5) You are safe.

The next time and he's cleaning your windows. You think you must be dreaming because Bucky was gone before Steve, and the Griffith's rooms look nothing like this. You also don't think Bucky would wear scrubs.

It must be some of the case files mixing around in your subconscious. The idea of men being brought back from the dead, from the war, must be dragging at you. Why it brought Bucky to the surface and not Steve troubles you.

Bucky notices you watching and pulls a chair over to you. When you answer his question about the year, his mouth goes tighter. He promises you he is alive, and that Steve is out of the ice, and you nod along thinking your subconscious has caught up to you. You pat his arm and wonder why the hardness doesn't surprise you.

He keeps reminding you that he and Steve are alive, and you think you knew that but don't remember how five minutes later. You just know each time he says it drains the stress from his shoulders.

One day Steve comes in and it doesn't make sense. It is glorious and golden, and him being back feels strange and weird. You want to cry. You've moved on in your life and him being here, alive, feels strange and beautiful and surreal. He gets out the stack of pictures like he knows where you keep them and lets you tell him about your family. He seems to already know it all, but nods sadly along.

When you wake up again Steve is by your bed and it feels bizarre. You half think it is a dream, for all his hand runs hot on yours. He's staring out the window and monologue-ing to you, not seeming to have noticed you're awake. There's something he says that prompts a memory.

"Bucky said you were alive."

Steve stops talking and looks back at her. He seems torn between the look of "she doesn't know what she is talking about" and hope, and that look from him frustrates you. It's a look you know you know from days in offices, but this time twisted with sadness.

"When, Peggy? Where?"

"He was here. In this room. There was 10 o'clock light."

"Today?"

"I... don't know." You are a little scared to realize that. You start to repeat yourself frantically, but the words turn into questions until a woman comes to your bed and puts something in your IV. Your eyes go bleary, and you think about how sad Steve looks.

Bucky is there in the 10 am light again. Today he's repeating facts to you about current events, and things you think are not so current, as he empties your trash cans. His cadence is steady, and you think he must have done this before. He seems almost relaxed.

When Steve walks in, Bucky looks at you with alarm and ducks through the loo into the next room. You hear a thump and a woman's voice, followed by that of a man you don't know. Steve follows, and you fall asleep to the sound of them talking in circles.

It seems right, even if you don't know how they got there.

**Author's Note:**

> I was sitting with my grandmother and noticed that my anxious, trauma brained self felt calmer when repeating stuff that she forgot over and over. Rather than sitting with my feelings I wrote fic. I've been told I'm not polluting the internet by sharing this so!


End file.
